Turning Point
by MadScienceChick
Summary: Tonks is angry. She's living in a creepy mansion infested with...things, formerly owned by her (recently deceased) cousin, and currently inhabited by herself, a lonely werewolf, and a sulking adolescent. Wouldn't you be angry too?


**Summary**: Tonks is angry. She's living in a creepy mansion infested with _things_, formerly owned by her (recently deceased) cousin, and currently inhabited by herself, a lonely werewolf, and a sulking adolescent. Wouldn't you be angry too? After Harry has a spectacular fight with Lupin, Tonks gives Harry a piece of her mind. One in a series of three.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, and I'm definitely not making any money.

**Author's notes**: Rated R for scandalous language, settling arguments with fisticuffs, and general tetchiness. There is also implied slash. If you absolutely can't stomach the thought of manlove, you probably want to read something else.

**Thank you** to Manraviel, Tiff, and Zorb, my lovely trio of betas, and to everyone who reviewed on FictionAlley.

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Turning Point**

The pounding on the door is not entirely unexpected.

"Harry?" Pound, pound, pound. "Harry, I know you're in there." A pause.

I roll my eyes at the ceiling without moving from the bed. "Go away, _Nymphadora_," I shout back. "What part of 'leave me alone, you meddling buggers' was in the least bit vague?"

Silence. And then - "_Alohomora_." Her voice is steel, even muffled by the heavy wood of the door. The latch groans, and the door flies open, hinges squealing. Tonks strides in swiftly and slams it shut behind her, her eyes (green today) glinting with barely concealed rage.

"I thought I told you to fuck off," I say crossly, sitting up and glaring at her.

She crosses the space between us in four long strides, and in one swift motion grabs my shoulders and shakes me furiously, as though I were a doll. "You - you self-centered, selfish, _horrible_ little boy," she chokes out. Her eyes are rimmed in red and highlighted by dark purple circles underneath. She's obviously been crying. No one has been sleeping.

I slap her hands away and stand, startling her into taking a step back. "This. Is. My. Room," I say evenly. "And I told you to get out."

She crosses her arms across her chest and steps closer to me, so that she's looking me directly in the eye. I know I've grown, but she's a tall woman, and what she lacks in mass she more than makes up for in presence. I swallow, feeling awkward and intimidated and about ten years old. "I thought you wanted us to send you back to your _aunt_." She spits the words out like a mouthful of vinegar.

I ignore my pounding heart - _stop it, not afraid of her_ - and imitate her posture and tone. "And I thought my _guardian_ said good riddance."

She slaps me for that.

I give her a sharp, strong push.

She punches me in the stomach.

"Oof," I say, and sit back down heavily.

"Listen to me, and listen to me well, young grasshopper," she says, her voice low but tightly wound with rage. "You're not the only person in this house who's grieving. Sirius was my cousin, and one of the few people in this family worth the oxygen he breathed, and - and - " Her voice hitches. "And Remus is suffering more than you can possibly imagine."

Stupid bitch. I snort. "I think I can imagine pretty damn well."

She slaps me again, harder this time. My cheek stings fiercely. "For Merlin's sake, you little punk, can you not _shut up_ for two minutes together?" She pauses for a moment, looking at me, then drops down to sit next to me. She flicks a strand of electric purple hair out of her face, then sighs. "Sirius was your family, I know, but you knew him for what, two, three years?" I don't reply. "Remus knew Sirius for nearly thirty years. Almost his entire life." Pause. "And Remus didn't have much, these days, that he could call family."

The silence spreads through the room, heavy and muted. Cold.

"If I try to talk, are you going to hurt me again?" I venture, after a while. I can feel fury clawing at my throat, remorse sinking in my belly, and something else - _no, not that, I'm not there anymore_ -

"Depends on what you say."

"Check." I swallow, trying to put my whirlwind of thoughts into order. "I hate it here, Tonks." She doesn't move. I take that as a good sign and plunge ahead. "I hate being - being in this _place_ - this place that hurt him - it hurt him so much that it drove him - that it drove him out - I hate remembering, that it was me - if I had helped him earlier, or if I hadn't - "

She bows her head. "It wasn't your fault, Harry," she says, very quietly.

"Don't say that!" I yell. _Crap_, I think, biting my tongue. _Must remain calm, must not antagonize the touchy Auror_. "Please, don't say that," I repeat, more softly this time. I feel like I should try to explain. "It wasn't my fault like if I had shot him in the head myself, but I'm not totally blameless here either. None of us are." I close my eyes. "It just makes me angry when people say that, because it _is_ my fault, and yours, and Lupin's, and Dumbledore's, and...and it makes me crazy, to be here and look around and see everyone feeling sorry for me, Lupin looking at me with that expression like I'm some poor puppy that's been kicked around - "

"Oh, that's rich," Tonks interrupts, fixing me with an icy stare. "Remus is depressed and you think it's about _you_? You daft git! What do you think happened to _him_ down there in the Department of Mysteries?"

I glare. "He lost Sirius. May I remind you, we _all_ lost Sirius? I lost my godfather, he lost his friend - "

A flash of something passes over Tonks's face, and she nearly growls. "He didn't lose his friend, Harry. He lost his _soulmate_. Again."

I blink. _Lupin? And Sirius?_ Realization is slow in coming, but once it hits me, I am vaguely aware that my mouth has dropped open and I'm staring at Tonks more or less as though she's grown a second head. _They were - they were -_

She stares back. "Good grief, Harry. How thick are you? Remus and Sirius, two grown, rather attractive men, spend all of their adult lives with one another, barring a forced separation while one of them is _in prison_, and you're sitting here telling me that Remus lost his _friend_?" Astonishment gradually replaces the fury in her face. "You really had no idea, did you."

I shake my head mutely, trying to untangle my thoughts. _Lupin? And Sirius? They were...lovers? They - they kissed? They lived together, like - like that? Oh God, that must mean that they - eww, Harry, backtrack, backtrack, don't think about it, just don't think about it. Um. I can think about cake! Cake. With whipped cream. Lupin and Sirius with cake and whipped cream. Augh!_

"Huh." She gazes at nothing thoughtfully. "Still doesn't give you any right to be such a prick towards Remus."

"I haven't been a prick," I say indignantly. Cake is mercifully driven from my mind.

"Yes, you have."

"I have not."

"By the gods, was I ever like this?" she snaps. She runs a hand through her hair, then looks at me intently. Her mouth is sad. "I've never heard anyone say such hurtful things as you said to Remus. Not in all my life, Harry."

"It was all true!"

She glares at me. It's starting to be a theme.

"What? It was!"

Glare.

"I told him he wasn't related to me. I told him he wasn't even my parents' choice for my guardian, and that I didn't have any family at Grimmauld Place. Honestly, if Ron and Hermione aren't even around, there isn't any reason he shouldn't send me back to the Dursleys', and I don't see - "

"Shut up!" she interrupts angrily. "Just, shut up, Harry! Remus is trying his damnedest to step in as your guardian, when all that new role reminds him of is the fact that his lover is dead. He's trying to be your family, and you remind him that he isn't. He wasn't your parents' first choice for your godfather because they weren't sure how far they could trust him. Oh, fine, well done, Harry, for reminding him of how the family he built for himself was torn apart by mistrust and betrayal and death. You can't even call him 'Remus,' even though he's not your professor any more. He shouldn't just be 'Lupin,' not to you, Harry. Well done for as much as telling him that he isn't even your friend, not like your Ron and Hermione. Have they done half as much to try to help you get through this?"

"They know bloody well enough to leave me alone!" I shout, springing to my feet, backing up towards the wall. "Why are you doing this? Why are you all _doing_ this? It's not like it's the first time - it's not like I don't know how to handle it - " I shut my eyes tightly and swallow. Salt stings under my lids. Anger is clawing through my chest, and remorse is tying knots in my stomach, and this, this feeling as if I were back there again and the light was shrinking down to a sliver - I'm being locked in - the door is closing and I'm four years old and all alone and they're locking me in shutting me up all alone all alone all alone in the dark -

"Harry." Her voice is soft. I can hear her breathing, right in front of me. Damn, she moves quietly. "Harry, look at me."

I open my eyes. Her round face is lined with concern. Something hot and sharp is clawing up my throat. Clawing out. I can't stop it. "I hate it here," I growl. "I hate this house, and I hate Lupin, for pretending that I need to be looked after, and I hate stupid, meddling Auror girls - "

"Oh, bloody hell, Harry! Could you...for just one, tiny minute stop behaving like such a...such an _adolescent_!"

"Only if you stop behaving like such a superior cunt!"

She tosses her head. Purple hair flips over her forehead. "Really, Harry, if you're going to use such language you might as well make sure you're not accidentally giving me a compliment."

My fury boils up at this. "Interfering twat!" I yell, taking an ill-planned swing at her face.

She dodges. "Self-involved halfwit!" she yells back.

"Get the fuck out of my bedroom!" I dodge slightly, then wince as her knee connects with my thigh, hard. _Ow ow ow, son of a_ bitch, _at least she didn't hit where she was aiming_ -

"Not until you agree to apologize to your guardian!" Her foot hooks behind my ankle and I tumble to the floor. The bristly rug scrapes at my palms. Stupid carpet.

"I'm not a child anymore!" I grab her knees to pull myself up, but all I succeed in is making her trip as well. We're both getting winded.

"You're sure as...hell behaving...like one!" She elbows me in the stomach as she tries to push herself back up.

"Fuck...you!" I grab a handful of purple hair and pull.

"It'd...probably...improve...your mood!" She spits in my face.

"Are...you...volunteering?" I grab her wrist and try to pull her over, off her balance, towards me. She's so close I can see her individual eyelashes.

She freezes in place and holds fast. "Okay, getting weird!" she says, locked in place. No matter how I struggle, I can't gain any ground.

I pause, my heart pounding, my breath ragged. Somehow, I am lying more or less on my side, my legs tangled up with hers. It occurs to me that if anyone were to walk in, they would get entirely the wrong impression.

Impulsively, I lean in and brush my lips against hers.

So much for the wrong impression.

I pull back and watch her. She swallows. Her cheeks are bright pink. _They match the hair nicely,_ I think. Her green eyes are startled. "I, erm. I ought to be going," she stammers.

"I thought you said you wouldn't leave until I agreed to apologize to Lupin." I kiss her again. _What am I doing?_ thinks a part of me. _Shut up_, says the rest. Her hair smells like some Muggle citrus shampoo. Her lips are soft the third time, too.

"Mmm. Oh, um, I mean, yes, you should go apologize to him right now. And I should, er, mmm." A hand snakes up into my hair.

I draw her closer with one leg.

Her lips part softly.

My fingers trace a line softly down her cheek.

And in an instant she's standing and smoothing out her hair and de-rumpling her robes and her lips are glowing and her eyes are shining and she looks guilty and embarrassed and radiant and she's babbling some crap about something Mundungus had wanted her to check out before the next meeting and it's over - she's going - she'll be gone -

I stand up slowly as she opens the door. My knees are shaking. "Hey Tonks," I say casually.

"What?" she says, turning back to me. Her face is all color and confusion.

"Uh, thanks."

She nods slightly.

"Oh, and Tonks?" I swallow. My mouth is suddenly very, very dry.

She raises an eyebrow.

I pause, tilting my head to one side. "Do you think - " my voice cracks - "do you really think I can call him 'Remus'?"


End file.
